


Torpor

by trr_rr



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, But also, Consensual Somnophilia, Dubious Consent, Existential Angst, Fear of Death, Hospitals, M/M, Multiverse, Prostitution, Terminal Illnesses, Visions in dreams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22231468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trr_rr/pseuds/trr_rr
Summary: He supposed it was some fine sport for perverts. The sense of anonymity that came with being awake when another was asleep.
Relationships: Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Comments: 20
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on a collection of stories by Yasunari Kawabata. And Darren Aronofsky going forward.

When James peeked around the doorway he thought he had interrupted another patron’s private moment.

“Oh, sorry.”

A man lay beneath a sheet, a young woman in blue stripes tended to him as Mrs Sato knelt and poured sake from a white ceramic bottle into a cup on the mat.

“Come inside.” Mrs Sato waved him over. “This is Lincoln.”

James hesitated. Why was he being introduced to a man who appeared to be asleep? His chest rose and fell softly. His palms and fingers lay lax at his sides.

“What do you mean?” James asked.

“This is my English speaker. He provides a very special service. He is most popular at this inn. Especially with older patrons who are no longer able to go with women.”

“I don’t understand. I think we have misunderstood each other.”

“No. You said pretty. You wanted an English speaker who does not talk so much.”

“This man is, is he asleep? How have we not woken him?”

James watched a young woman stroke a comb through the man’s hair. The dark strands parted to show white and grey beneath, it started at the hairline and made its way back.

“He is asleep. He takes medicine and we let men sleep here beside him.”

There was no reply James could give.

“Your payment is non-refundable. I explained to you and you agreed. I promised you a pretty English speaker and here he is. Your payment covers the room and sake for the night.”

“You scammed me.”

“No. We have regular customers who pay large amounts of money to sleep in this room. You do not understand until you do it for yourself. But no funny business. The rules are that there is to be no un-virtuous touching. Do not put your fingers in his mouth. Do not damage him or be violent with him in any way. Say for this you may touch him and speak to him as you wish. He cannot wake up and he will never know your name. There are sleeping tablets for you under your pillow. Take one to sleep lightly and wake in the night when you can take the other. Take both pills at once to sleep until morning, upon which time Lincoln will still be asleep.”

James was left alone in the room with the sleeping man and the door was shut to give him some privacy. He was very uncomfortable but at least he need not make small talk. A few sips of sake were all it took to have James look over at Lincoln’s sleeping form.

He supposed it was some fine sport for perverts. The sense of anonymity that came with being awake when another was asleep. He wondered at how many times something untoward had happened for Mrs Sato to list off the rules of the arrangement so bluntly. James fought a shudder at the thought of his own body being violated by some old man’s finger in his unconscious mouth.

Soon the silent spell of mystery cast its mute fingers about James in the lamp lit room. How did this man come to be there, in such a strange profession. A twisted version of prostitution but prostitution all the same. Trusting one’s body to a stranger.

Never having touched a man’s body in a sexual manner, James found it strange to slip into bed with the man sleeping soundly beside him. He had paid for the damn night in the room and he would take whatever there was to be had in it. The rain pattered the roof and soothed the pain in James’s wallet at having been scammed into this mockery of a sexual experience.

Despite his hesitance, James was still want of affection and the warm body beside him drew him forward. James first noticed the fine hairs at the back of Lincoln’s neck. Clean shaven and soft, Lincoln then turned onto his front and sighed. His face was against the pillow and James saw his full face.

Mrs Sato had not lied to him. This man was pretty. Masculine but soft all the same. James considered the freedom allowed to a wakeful man in the company of a sleeper. Freedom to look and watch as much as he liked.

A gentle cupids bow and a soft pinkish bottom lip. A shaven face and healthy skin. James wondered if he had shaved before he took the sleeping medicine, as there was no apparent shadow of stubble.

James could smell him. The usual scent of sleeping men made James recoil somewhat. Ugly, unkempt and slovenly. Old sweat and snorts, farts and drool filler his mind when it played back summers spent trapped in tents with male companions.

But here, James felt warm breath against his face. He smelled body heat and as his foot connected with a bare leg, he realized Lincoln was naked.

Lincoln’s neck was long and his shoulders were broad. His hand lay upon his pillow, hair fanned out. The index finger grazed his lower lip.

And then James, upon realization of the vulnerability on display, came upon his best idea. He would get his revenge upon Mrs Sato and her lame excuse for a night of pleasure by violating the rules. By violating this drugged unconscious man.

James’s arms wrapped around Lincoln’s body. Awkward at first, in possession of a male body that was not his own. He pulled and found their skin came into contact easily. Just as pleasant as being pushed up against a woman. James’s hands roved everywhere they could. Over a shoulder, under an arm. At the neck, down the chest and around the curve of a waist.

James lingered there. He found his palms moved up and down, over the chest to the waist and down over the hip and back again with ease. What a peculiar configuration for a man’s body. The thighs were strong and there was body hair thick and warm all over. James tugged at the legs to part them.

The soft sigh against his cheek gave him pause. What would he do? There were ways to pleasure women that he had learned from an appropriate age and employed them with every girl he had ever convinced to fall into his bed. There were certain ways to go about it with women. With men, what was the means of access? How does one violate a man? Grab at his chest? His behind? Kiss the neck and the mouth? These all seemed true for women but for men, where was the pleasure found?

And upon curious contact with the sleeping sex of this body, James found himself feeling. It rose up in him. What had this man to do with any of the business that had occurred that night?

He was as one of the women who serviced the establishment. And all violence left James then. He let Lincoln’s body down, as he had clutched his body up against his own. The head fell back to the pillow and a sigh rippled through Lincoln’s chest.

Wanting and not having. That was something James had not much known before that night. A heat upon his skin burned through him now as he tucked his face into Lincoln’s neck with hesitation. Sex with any woman was the main event. Being permitted to sleep in her bed was a luxury for which James had seldom dared ask.

Here he was given the ghost reality of affection. He could drink his fill. He turned Lincoln away from himself and tucked their bodies up close together. Lincoln was not a short man but any comparison to James’s size was futile. It was a coincidence then that Lincoln was the correct height to allow James the wonderful soft scent of clean hair just beneath his nose as they lay together.

And as he made his peace with the arrangement and reasoned that he would be forever puzzling the situation in his head, James took one of the sleeping tablets from beneath his pillow.

James left in the morning after a cup of very good tea and later that day received a telegram from the Mrs Sato.

Please return to the [REDACTED] Inn. Stop. Our deepest apologies. Stop. We have seen to it that persons of concern have been reprimanded. Stop. Any time you would like to visit this evening will be agreeable. Stop.

It was James’s metal note clip that had been stolen. He had not realized it was missing. It was engraved with US insignia. A silver item depicting an eagle.

Upon his return to the building, James was denied access for the night.

“I just want to say that there are no ill feelings. It must have been a simple mistake.”

“There are no mistakes. I cannot apologise enough. Next time you will be in a room with a woman.”

“But. No, there’s no problem. I would like to see Lincoln again.”

“Out of the question.”

James was no master of conversation. He lacked charisma and charm but he could damn well demand goods and services if he had the money.

“Look. I just want to know if the guy is okay.”

Some naive fantasy must have taken hold inside his foolish heart. Maybe Lincoln was providing the sleep service due to difficult circumstances. James had a notion that he could offer help, financially or otherwise and Lincoln might appreciate that help.

“Bad business to get involved with our employees. We cannot allow it. A strict rule. Next time you will be with a girl. We have lots of lovely girls for you here.”

“I don’t want a girl.” James was shocked to find himself saying.

“Please keep your voice down.” Mrs Sato looked around the bar that occupied the ground floor of the building in which they conversed. “If you would like, you can have Lincoln again in a week. Ten days perhaps. Not before then.”

James had no idea as to why he had to wait but when he returned exactly one week later he asked to spend the night with Lincoln and his request was granted. Money was exchanged and apologies for the previous instance of theft were offered, along with the option to pay for a lock box behind the counter, should he have in his possession any items of value.

And there, in the same dim and small room, for the second time, Lincoln was asleep.

James wasted no time. He undressed and pressed himself beneath the sheets to Lincoln’s body. He breathed deep in the air that surrounded them both, enjoyed the union of Lincoln’s skin with and his own.

He wondered at what point Lincoln must have woken on his previous visit in order to have stolen from him. And what a strange item to take. No money was missing, only the US money clip. He wondered what Lincoln might have thought of him. He wondered if Lincoln knew he would be there again with him tonight. 

Looking upon a sleeping body was as sleeping with a ghost. A trapped soul with no knowledge of the real world. He imagined Lincoln was curious about him but knew himself to be nothing special. He must sleep beside so many men. James’s height may have surprised him, say for that, James had no idea what this man was like. It is easier to be enamoured of a person when you know nothing about them, in his mind, James saw Lincoln as a quiet man of solitude, graceful and able to keep secrets and as such, the perfect bedmate.

He explored with his hands again and felt raised marks on Lincoln’s thighs he had not felt before. He pulled back the sheet and saw Lincoln’s body for the first time in full vision.

The rise of heat in his body brought a chuckle to his chest.

He spread his fingers about Lincoln’s bare back and raised his body up to his own. He cradled Lincoln’s head with a hand at the back of his neck. James’s hand was work-rough and the back of Lincoln’s neck was soft and smooth. He caressed his fingers over the point above his spine and felt the absence of arms around him. A vacant embrace. Like smiling into a mirror.

James considered the reality of masturbating in a room with a sleeping man. What that would change in him.

The consideration moved to the jacket James had worn upon entering for the night. In the pocket was an orange. His lips were licked and he moved from the bed to fish it out. Almost colourless in the night light, orange only because of the lamp, not because of its own nature.

The treat was brought back to the bed and James sat cross legged on the bed towards Lincoln to peel it. His blunt fingernails sank into the dimpled skin and tore back the rind. Segments came apart and James was quenched when the first piece touched his tongue and the flesh was burst between his teeth. Simple pleasure.

A thought passed as to Lincoln’s own palate. Did he enjoy eating as much as James? 

He sat that way, half hard and watching as he worked through the whole thing. The air was split by the sharp tang of fresh fruit. James regained some confidence and decided that having pleasure in the company of the unconscious was the same as having it alone.

And so he tossed the empty skin over his shoulder to the floor in whimsy and spread himself out on the bed, up against Lincoln.

Their bodies merged and James dug down between his legs for more pleasure. His eyes were hidden against Lincoln’s shoulder, faced away from James as he was. The arms, the legs, all still and heavy in sleep. At the pull of curiosity one hand was lifted and placed down upon James’s cock. No response in the fingers of course. No flex or flinch. Just weight and warmth.

Despite the alive yet closed eyes, James carried along with the business as he usually would. Lincoln’s hand fell back to its place on the sheets and James rubbed himself. He was not subtle and there was little finesse. He pressed the entirety of his sex against Lincoln’s ass. He pushed with his hips in no way thinking for anyone else’s pleasure.

The damp head of his cock unsheathed from the foreskin as he pushed it to Lincoln’s back. The faint trail of his own bodily fluid on Lincoln’s skin gave him pause.

This was not a violation of the rules. There was no violence or intrusion. No fingers in the mouth, no bite marks or bruises. But there, on the lower back, a sign that James existed. James did not wipe it away. He stared at the place until he was finished. Until he had cleaned himself up. Until it had dried and sunken into the skin.

He wondered at the porous nature of skin. At the ability to absorb. A wish that a part of himself could be part of Lincoln’s physical body. A secret way to slip inside this ghost.

James took both pills. He put an arm over Lincoln’s chest and clutched at his left hand.

The sheets unfurled to reveal them both in white light. A soft breeze, the sound of the ocean against the shoreline.

“This is your third visit.”

“Yes.”

“You are too early.”

“It’s almost sunset.”

“Too early. Come back in a few hours.”

“But, I thought I might meet him.”

Mrs Sato stood on her tiptoes to speak to him.

“That is strictly forbidden. You must never ask this again. You understand?”

“No, I don’t. Why can’t I meet him?”

“You can meet him any night of the week.”

“No I mean meet him when he’s awake. Really meet him.”

“You meet the realest version of a man when he sleeps. Now go and come back later.”

And so he did.

Lincoln was asleep. His mouth was softly open. He did not snore.

And James removed his clothes in the quiet and joined Lincoln in the bed. He touched his face. He let his large fingers stroke down the full cheek, along the jaw, down the neck to the collar bone. What was the strange mixture of delight and melancholy every time he slumbered beside this man. Knowing and not knowing. Touching but unable to be touched. A suffering that James could live inside forever and hardly bare.

He took one pill from beneath the pillow. He wanted to wake in the night and touch and look at Lincoln for a few hours more.

When his eyes opened again, two dark points stared back at him. He did not move. There was nowhere to hide. His body was half on display in the light that passed through the window. The sheet had been tugged away from his body, it covered only his right leg.

The eyes moved over his body, down his chest and the rest of him. An arm dug beneath his pillow and fished for the second pill. The silence cut into James and then there was a soft hand upon his face. Fingers pushed into his beard and tugged at his chin. The pill was placed into the softness of his mouth and the hand disappeared.

Awake. Alive. He did not seem scared. Perhaps he had awakened beside strange naked men many times. James swallowed the pill and winced at the dryness as it slid down his throat.

He remained that way, mute and frozen with inaction. He had so much to ask, so much to say.

Eyes wide, heat covered him and there were lips at his neck. He was kissed beneath his beard. The shifting sound of two bodies in the bedroom. The pleasure that filled James’s heart over spilled and ran his blood hot. He reached up to grab what he had come to want and he was not pushed away. But there were rules and he was breaking them as Lincoln’s fingers stroked at his sex between their bodies.

“Quiet.”

The voice was rough and unexpected, that of a spectre. James was helpless. Vulnerable on his back with his belly up. He let the sleeping ghost he had come to covet do as it pleased. The ghost’s pleasure was James’s it would seem as he wrapped his arms around Lincoln’s back and let him feel his way around the landscape.

Quietly ecstatic for the hardness he felt mirror his own, he angled his hips and a hand drew their pleasure together.

“Please.” James all but squeaked.

And his prayer was answered by the body. It drew back and reared up, tangled in the sheets, animal and human shaped, to duck down and take James into a mouth that was hot, damp and adoring.

Wet sounds followed. He tried to look and capture the image in his mind. Longing for this silently for many nights to now finally have it, but to have to take it in near silence was torture.

The rush of body memory was heady. Many times James had had this pleasure with women and it was of course his favourite. The dominance it held, the surge of primal heat as a drowning tide. And yet, here with the sleeper it felt nothing like any experience he could unthread from his tapestry of sexual experience. James was the one to be pinned, stunned, gagged and choking.

He wanted badly to call out. To grab the hair and stroke the face that pleased him but he was afraid. To have any impact on the ghost that was adoring him would be a violation. So he fell back, hands clenched at his sides in the sheets.

The two eyes shone light like that of a creature from the wild. There was no fear in the mouth that consumed him. No hesitance in the fingers when they prodded and tugged and stroked. Lincoln was powerful and serene in the act as James saw his sex delve between soft lips. A tongue, a throat and two hands that stroke up his body and back down again and held his cock all at once.

The beat of the ocean against shore was loud and James wondered how it did not wake the whole building. Two creatures made from bedclothes writhed and managed the tide together.

Between sleep and awake, day and night there were little noises. Wet sounds of a mouth, hums that were muted by James’s flesh. James swallowed a grunt when Lincoln took him all the way down and there was a quiet laugh in response to his agony.

And then there rose the feeling of orgasm in his gut. All too soon, not quick enough. A tap to the shoulder and Lincoln did not retreat. He doubled down in his exquisite torture of James’s flesh and the flash of pleasure reached a single point.

Akin to the lancing of a wound, James cursed and grit teeth though ejaculation. Lincoln’s determination to swallow it all had James disturbed somehow. He was cleaned by mouth till all evidence of the deed had gone. The only remainder was James’s raw and spent cock, reddened with blood where it recovered in fine hairs on his lower belly.

There was an attempt to meet Lincoln’s flushed face but he was pushed away to the bed. On his back. Lincoln seemed to sit on the bed, far above him.

There was so much James wanted to say but his eyes were heavy. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Sweat dried into his brow. He watched Lincoln as he watched back. Dark dreams pulled him away from what he wanted and he tumbled into the path of least resistance. Asleep.

Upon waking a second time Lincoln was dead asleep but James had finally found his voice.

“Lincoln.” James squeezed at his bare shoulder. “Lincoln.”

Of course there was no reply.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware of the tags. And! Just to keep you hopeful about this story, there are three universes running at once. There will be a robot in the next chapter.

Rhett peeked around the doorway and he was afraid.

“It’s okay. Come on in.” Doctor Sato’s voice was level and cheery.

Link lay on the bed, a nurse in blue scrubs tended to the bedside. She fiddled with plastic wires and checked something off on a chart that she rested against the bedside table. She clicked her pen and placed it back into her breast pocket. Rhett found her movements fascinating. Or it was more that he could hardly bare to let his eyes fall on Link’s form on the bed.

“Hey, Link.” Doctor Sato patted and stroked at his hand. There was no response. “Rhett’s here. I know you must have been wondering where he is but it’s okay, he’s here now.”

Rhett hesitated, for the first time, he was afraid of Link. He was asleep, the doctor knew Link could not hear or see her. Rhett was not all that convinced that Link was aware that he had arrived. Link’s chest rose and fell softly. His palms and fingers lay lax at his sides.

“He can hear everything you say, okay? Anything you tell him, he’ll listen.”

“Okay. So he really won’t wake up?” Rhett stared at Link’s face. His stubble. The tube that ran beneath his nose.

“No. He might stir occasionally but the pressure against whatever stopped him from waking when we found him this morning will keep him this way.”

Rhett had forgotten about the bundle of flowers in his hand. Nurse in blue took them from him and placed them in the water jug on the bedside. Rhett supposed the water in his eyes was a reaction to pollen, he didn’t feel as though he had been crying. He just knew he was out of his depth.

The nurse stroked a comb through Link’s hair, revealing the streak of grey to the lights of the ward. She also wiped his face with a cloth. This was all too intimate for Rhett’s liking.

“He is not in any pain. He has a little box beside his left shoulder. It might beep from time to time, that’s just there to tell us when he needs more pain relief.”

“Why does he need pain relief when he’s not in pain?”

“It’s to help with the discomfort of being bed bound. The catheter. Not eating.”

“And the,” Rhett pointed to his nose, “tube?”

“That’s to help with his breathing. He is not being assisted to breathe, we’re just giving him oxygen to make him more comfortable.”

Rhett nodded. He let his fingertips touch the plastic rail at the edge of the bed.

“So, how long do visiting hours go on this ward?”

“You will find that most hospices do not run visiting hours like in the hospital. You can stay here for as long as you need. You can use the bathroom through that door.” She pointed behind him. The bathroom was built into the room. “You probably passed by the kitchen when you arrived. You can help yourself to anything and feel free to bring your own food and drink.”

Rhett nodded again.

“It’s all very overwhelming.” Doctor Sato patted his arm. The blue scrubs nurse left the room. “You can take Link’s hand. Brush his hair. Whatever you would like to do. Please avoid touching the equipment but beside that you are free to come and go as you please. There is an emergency call button beside the bed on the wall there.”

Rhett was left alone in the room with the sleeping man and the door was shut to give them both some privacy. Rhett was very uncomfortable but at least he need not make small talk. He turned on the small wall mounted television in the corner of the room as a distraction and the background noise gave him the courage to look over at Link.

He supposed that a woman could deal with the situation much better. Or that Link could deal with it, if he were not the one on the bed. The secret nature of your emotions when you are awake when another was asleep turns inside out. Rhett wondered how many times some family members had leaned on medical equipment and pulled the plug on a patient for Doctor Sato to have mentioned it to him upon their first meeting.

Rhett shoved down a shiver at the idea. Knowing Link to be so clumsy, if their roles were reversed, he would never have lasted long in his care. 

But Link would probably be brave enough to talk to him.

Soon, the silent spell of obligation cast its deep line into the water and pulled Rhett forward.

“Hey, man.” His voice quavered. He shifted the little plastic chair beneath himself and sat right by the bed. Never having touched his friend so purposefully made the situation all the more real. Rhett gasped at the sudden pain. This may be his only time left with Link. Their money was paying for the private room in the hospice, he was damn well going to get their money’s worth. Link would do the same.

Rain pattered the roof and soothed the awkward feeling of silence between them.

Despite his hesitance, Rhett was still desperate for solace. To be convinced that Link was in no pain. The warmth of Link’s body drew him forward. He noticed the fine hairs at the back of Link’s neck against the soft brushed cotton of the hospice pillow. A slight stubble on his chin. As Rhett watched, Link sighed and Rhett almost fell from his seat and cursed much too loudly.

Doctor Sato had not lied to him, Link was sound asleep and would not wake. Rhett was convinced of it. He sat back down and considered the freedom allowed to him now, to look at Link as much as he wanted.

Rhett wondered how long ago Link had shaved his face. There was a presumed scent to hospitals that Rhett always hated but Link’s room lacked any of that sterile chemical smell. There were pale blue walls. Light curtains. The sun was setting.

Rhett thought about the practical measures. Was Link sitting on a bedpan? Did his catheter hurt? How often was he peeing? Rhett could not help his private curiosity and found a clear plastic box at the end of the bed, beneath the cover blanket. It looked nothing like he imagined. Or course, it was a quarter full with yellow piss but the contraption looked kind of futuristic.

And as he pulled the blanket back into place after looking his fill, he realized his hand had made contact with Link’s foot. It was warm. He also realized Link was naked from the waist down as he was only in a medical gown.

There was no pale look to Link’s face. No sickness. He looked warm, more than anything. If Link were awake, Rhett would tamper with anything in the room to get Link to perk up. There would be no time for sadness or fear, they would both be too busy snorting and picking little arguments.

Rhett’s arm fell over Link’s upper body in a hug. His hand lingered and moved up Link’s shoulder to his neck. Rhett thought that, despite the nurse doing a great job, she had combed his hair in the wrong direction. There was a comb on the bedside table. Rhett was unable to use it.

He sat in the chair and watched Link sleep for, what he counted upon leaving, to be three hours. He let Doctor Sato know he was leaving and handed his cell phone number to the receptionists. Leaving Link in the room, asleep, alone, was an ugly feeling.

Rhett ate dinner when he got home. He thought about nothing.

The next morning, when Rhett awoke, he found a text message waiting for him.

_ Hello, Rhett. This is Doctor Sato. Are you returning to the [REDACTED] Hospice today? Though there is no pressure for you to return, these next few days and nights are important. You are more than welcome to bring by Link’s sleepwear, any personal items you think he might like, and anything to make your stay more comfortable. There is a foldable cot here for you if you require it. Any time you would like to visit today or this evening will be fine. _

So Rhett packed a hold all. He folded up Link’s sleep shirt and sweatpants, as well as a change of clothes for himself. He made sure to pack his own tooth brush, razors and Link’s night glasses.

Upon his return, Rhett was denied access to the room. And so, denied access to Link.

“Just a few moments, Mr Mclaughlin.”

“I just want to put my bag in the room. It’s okay, I’m fine with whatever’s going on.”

“No, I’m afraid it’s out of the question. Please allow us a few minutes to finish up. Why don’t you go sit in the bird garden for a little while?”

“I just want to see him.”

“The kitchen is open, why don’t you get a cold drink?”

“I don’t want a drink and I don’t want to sit in the garden.” Rhett was shocked to find himself yelling at the nurse.

“Please keep your voice down.” The nurse looked to other visitors in the hallway. She leaned in and lowered her voice. “We’re changing Link and washing him for your visit. Please bare with us for a few minutes longer.”

Rhett felt his face turn red. Why was he embarrassed at the notion that Link would be washed by the nurses at the hospice? Being touched by strangers, being  _ changed. _ Rhett knew Link would hate it. They did not know his system.

But when Rhett returned from the garden his request to spend the night was granted. Link’s bed clothes were tucked into a small closet in the room and the nurses agreed that they could change him into them the next time they were doing rounds.

So there, in the same dim and small room, for the second time, Link was sleep.

Rhett wasted no time, he took Link’s hand in his own as he sat in the little plastic chair. He breathed deep in the air that surrounded them both, enjoyed the union of Link’s hand with his own.

“Just me again.”

He wondered what Link would think of his fear. He wondered if Link knew he was there again with him.

Looking upon a sleeping body in a hospital bed was like visiting a ghost. A trapped soul with no knowledge of the real world. Of what was happening around him and who was present. It was easier to hear his own thoughts with Link asleep, than with him awake.

Rhett looked at the back of Link’s hand. He felt the small hairs, the tendons under the skin. Link moved in the bed and this time Rhett did not flinch.

With the pull of the blanket over him, Link’s gown fell down to reveal one shoulder. Rhett snorted at Link’s oblivious nature in sleep, as it was much the same as Link’s nature when awake.

Tugging at the gown, it came back up over Link’s shoulder. Rhett stroked his fingers over Link’s skin and felt the absence of arms around him. A vacant embrace. Like smiling into a mirror.

Rhett considered the reality of what was going to happen in this room. What it was going to change about him.

The consideration moved to the jacket Rhett had worn upon entering and had cast off on the back of the chair. In the pocket was an orange. He twisted from beside the bed to fish it out. A vibrant colour against the dull serenity of the hospice room, Rhett licked his lips.

Rhett crossed one leg over the other and watched Link breathe on the bed as he peeled it. His blunt fingernails sank into the skin and tore back the rind. The segments came away and Rhett felt his thirst quenched by the burst of flesh between his teeth. Such a simple pleasure.

The sharp tang of orange scent split the room and as Rhett thought about how Link probably did not enjoy oranges, and then about how it was probably the last fruit that he would eat in front of Link.

That’s when Rhett’s body let him feel. He dropped the half eaten orange on the bedside table and climbed up onto the bed to lay with Link. Against Link. With Link.

Their bodies touched through clothes and the blanket and Rhett dug down deep inside himself to find the first sob. His eyes were hidden against Link’s shoulder. The arms, the legs, all still and heavy in sleep. Rhett threaded his fingers between Links own, there was no response of course, no flex or flinch. Just weight and warmth.

Despite the alive yet closed eyes, Rhett carried on holding Link. There was no dignity or pretense to the way Rhett cried. He pressed his whole face into the blanket and sobbed, in no way thinking about how Link might react to his best friend crying against his body.

Rhett pulled back and the wet twinkle of tears on Link’s neck gave him pause. A sign that his emotions existed. That this was really happening. He looked at the wetness until he had stopped crying. Until he had put himself back together, flattened down his beard and fixed his unruly hair. Until the tears had dried and sunken into Link’s skin.

He wondered at the porous nature of skin. At the ability to absorb. A wish that a part of himself could be part of Links body. A secret way to slip inside his soul and stay with him.

Rhett sat back in his chair. He put his hand on Link’s hand on the bed. He fell asleep in white light. A soft breeze, the sound of the ocean against the shoreline.

“This is your third visit.”

“Yes. Has he woken up?

“No. I’ve seen him turn over a few times.”

“I wish I could tell him where he is. That I’m here.”

“He can hear you. Don’t forget that. He knows you’re here. You can talk to him any time you like. This is your chance to tell him anything that you need to say.”

And so he tried.

Link was sleep. His mouth was softly open. He did not snore.

And Rhett joined him at the side of the bed. He touched Link’s face. He let his large fingers stroke down his full cheek, over the oxygen tube, along the jaw, down the neck to the collar bone. What a strange mixture of pain and happiness to be able to be with him like this. Alive and not alive. Touching and unable to be touched. Rhett wanted the moment to go on forever and he could hardly stand it.

He tried to stay awake. Just in case. But he found himself asleep before he knew it.

When his eyes opened again, two dark points stared back at him from the bed. He did not move. There was nowhere to run and why would he. Was he afraid that Link would see what a mess he was? Unkempt, unwashed and in pain from sleeping upright in a chair.

The eyes moved around the room, over to Rhett and to his own bed. A hand reached over and touched his shoulder, soothing his pain. The silence cut into Rhet and then there was a warm hand against his face. Fingers pushed into his bead and tugged at his frown. Rhett dug up a smile and the hand disappeared.

Awake. Alive. He did not seem scared. Perhaps he had woken in the room while Rhett had been away and he knew what was happening. Rhett felt a lump in his throat and swallowed it down with a wince.

He remained that way, mute and frozen with inaction. He had so much to ask, so much to say.

Eyes wide, heat covered him and Link was out of bed, embracing him as he sat in his chair. Happiness bloomed in Rhett’s heart and over spilled into tears. He reached up to grab Link and never let him go and he was not pushed away. Link stroked the back of his head, unfazed by his dirty hair.

“Quiet.”

The voice was scratchy and unexpected, that of a spectre. Rhett was helpless. Vulnerable beyond compare. He let Link do as he pleased. The ghost wrapped his arms tightly around him.

Quietly ecstatic for the presence of Link in the room after so much time alone, Rhett clung to every second.

“Please.” Rhett all but squeaked.

But his prayer was not answered. Link crawled back into bed and Rhett saw him animal and human shaped, labouring to get comfortable. Rhett longed to soothe him but he could find no emotional reference in his tapestry of care. He just did not know how.

He wanted badly to call out. To hit the button by the bed and ask for assistance. He wanted to grab Link’s hair, to stroke his face, to cradle him and stop the process. But to have any impact on the ghost that was writhing in the bed would be a violation. So he fell back, hands clenched in his lap as he watched the worst thing he could imagine happening to a person, happen to the one person he so loved.

Links eyes were powerful and serene when they drew back to Rhett in his chair. The beat of the ocean against the shore was loud and Rhett wondered how it did not wake the whole building. A creature made from bedclothes writhed and managed the tide alone.

Between sleep and awake, day and night there were little noises. Sounds of breathing, groans of discomfort. Rhett swallowed a moan of fear.

And then there rose the feeling of grief in his gut. All too soon and not quick enough. Rhett’s hand grabbed Link’s wrist and he did not retreat, he settled on the bed, the flash of pain reached a single point.

Akin to lancing a wound, Rhett cursed and grit his teeth. Link’s determination to swallow pain had Rhett disturbed somehow. Link shut his eyes and caught his breath till all evidence that he had been in pain was gone. The only remainder was Rhett’s damp face where the salt dried in his beard.

There was an attempt to meet Link’s eyes but he was pulled back down to his chair. Link seemed far away.

There was so much Rhett wanted to say but his eyes were heavy. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Sweat dried into his brow. He watched Link as he fell back to sleep. Dark dreams tugged him away from what he wanted and he tumbled into the path of least resistance. Asleep.

Upon waking a second time, Rhett’s back ached terribly. Link was dead asleep with the breathing tube in place below his nose. Rhett had finally found his voice.

“Link.” Rhett squeezed at his bare shoulder. “Link.”

Of course there was no reply.


End file.
